


aubade

by sugarplumfairy



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Desk Sex, F/M, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Reunion Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 06:15:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26847274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarplumfairy/pseuds/sugarplumfairy
Summary: Aubade / ō-ˈbäd / [n]: a song or poem of lovers parting at dawn.--"I could never forget you, Estinien,” she says. “So at least give me something to remember.”
Relationships: Warrior of Light/Estinien Wyrmblood
Comments: 1
Kudos: 50
Collections: Final Fantasy XIV - Estinien Wyrmblood x WoL Recommendations





	aubade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tsukishimmy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsukishimmy/gifts).



> Commission for my gf @tsukishimmy :) 
> 
> I actually wrote this a WHILE ago but I hadn't played FFXIV so I felt weird about posting it LOL. I'm still finishing ARR so all I know about Heavensward is from reading the wiki page for this mans NO SPOILERS PLEASE <3

She wants to hit him. She wants to kiss him.

She wants to make him _hurt,_ even if it’s just a fraction of the constant ache at the edges of the hole where her heart used to be. She wants to kiss him ‘til she’s drunk, until it’s enough to drown out the doubt and the fear and the longing that’s been with her ever since she’d found his sickbed empty.

Pari shoves him and it should have felt good but Estinien just takes it. She shoves him again and, expecting it this time, he doesn’t even budge. She shoves him a third time and feels hot, angry tears well up. She blinks them away.

“Say something,” she says, afraid that if she shouts it her voice will break.

“What was I to do?” Estinien asks. His fist clenches at his side. “Allow you to talk me out of leaving?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“I don’t want your ‘sorry,’” she says.

“Then what _do_ you want?”

Pari opens her mouth to speak, but the words don’t come. What would be enough?

Estinien steps closer. His face is unreadable, lips set in a hard line and brow smooth. She studies him, searches for something, _anything_ – remorse, sorrow, she’ll take whatever she can get at this point. And the question she needs to ask becomes clear.

“Why?” Pari asks. “Why didn’t you say goodbye? Why didn’t you say _anything_?”

“I’m sorry,” Estinien says again, but the conviction isn’t there this time.

Pari grabs the front of his armor and shakes him. “Don’t you understand how worried I was? Or how I can’t go a single night without wondering where you are, if you’re alive or dead, or if you cared even a little bit—”

“Is that what you think?”

This close, she feels his breath speed up. She sees the bob of his throat as he forces a swallow.

“Of course that’s what I think,” Pari says. “How could I not? You didn’t care enough to even see me one last time.”

Estinien looks away, sighs. His brow creases. “I… could not deal with this part.”

“This part?”

“We will once again go our separate ways by the morn. This part. The ‘goodbye’ part.”

Her breath catches in her throat. _The goodbye part._

“I thought it better to leave,” he continues. “Better that you forget me.”

Pari reaches up to grab him by the chin and turns him to face her. The cracks in his indifferent façade are now clear. There’s something desperate in the way he looks at her, wanting her to prove him wrong.

“I could never forget you, Estinien,” she says. “So at least give me something to remember.”

A pause, only long enough for half a breath. Then he kisses her, hungry, and pulls her flush to him, as close as he can possibly get her. This kiss is fire – dangerous, reckless, alive and all consuming. This kiss is water – ebb and flow, death and rebirth, the kiss of life after a long drought.

This kiss is the next step in the dance they’d started years ago and waited so long to finish. It’s a dance of lips, then of tongues and teeth and hands. Pari yields a step backwards and Estinien follows it, follows it, follows it until she finds herself with no more room to yield, her back up against the desk.

Estinien only stops kissing her long enough to ask, “ _Bed?_ ” before he kisses down her jaw, down the side of her neck to her collarbone.

“No, _here,_ ” Pari gasps. Her fingers tighten in his hair as he pins her to the desk with his weight. “Right here.”

Estinien huffs out a shallow laugh against her skin and glances up at the window. “In front of all Revenant’s Toll? Naughty.”

Pari doesn’t bother to answer, and instead pulls him back up into a desperate kiss. She struggles to undo the buttons on her shirt, even more so with the obstacle of Estinien’s impatient hand on her breast, but eventually she unbuttons enough for him to pull the shirt off over her head.

She reaches for the buckles on his armor but he takes a step away from her. She props herself up on her elbows, dizzy with arousal. She tries to ask what’s wrong, but can’t remember how to.

“Pants off,” Estinien says as he lowers down to one knee, then the other.

Pari scrambles to comply.

The first brush of his lips against the inside of her thigh is already enough to drive her mad. She threads her fingers through his hair, hooks her leg around his shoulder, anything to bring him closer to the ache.

Estinien seems to agree. She’s waited long enough.

He keeps her spread open with his hands on her thighs, pins them to the edge of the desk. He runs the flat of his tongue over her folds and Pari almost sobs with both pleasure and relief. Her nails dig dents into the wood as Estinien dives down again, deeper, hungrier.

She bites back a cry when his thumb presses on her clit and Estinien pulls his tongue from her with what could almost be called a smile.

“Are you shy now?” he asks. “I thought you cared not if—”

Pari yanks on his hair to force him flush against her once more. “Don’t. You. Fucking. Stop,” she pants.

For a moment, she thinks she sees him palm at the front of his pants, but then his lips close around her clit with the barest graze of teeth and she’s too overwhelmed to notice anything anymore.

She’s teetering on the edge – of both the desk and her orgasm – and when he thrusts two fingers into her it’s enough to tip her over.

She feels, she _feels_ so much – his fingers, his lips, the shock of pleasure that grips her body and won’t let go. After years of just imagining this with only her own hand for relief, it’s overwhelming. And once it’s over, she comes back to her senses and finds herself almost on the floor, with her head resting against the desk and her boneless weight completely in Estinien’s arms.

“Oops, looks like I fell for you,” she says.

Estinien rolls his eyes and huffs to hide his laugh. Pari finds her shaky way back to standing as he works on the buckles of his armor. He gets back up the same way he’d knelt down, one knee at a time, and by the time he’s made it down to his belt Pari’s hands are already all over him.

Old scars, new scars. Familiar territory but a new landscape. Her fingers glide over long-healed wounds, ridges of defined muscle, and down over his hip bones just as he unclasps his belt.

Greedy, she reaches for his cock. Estinien sucks in a sharp breath as her hand wraps around him, pumps up and back down.

Pari releases him to spit in her hand and he pushes his pants down the rest of the way before she returns to stroke him again. He doesn’t moan, doesn’t curse, but his heavy breaths and his vice grip on her forearm are evidence enough of his pleasure.

He grasps her wrist and forces her to stop.

“Pari,” he grunts. “Not like this.”

“How, then?” Pari asks.

Something dark flickers across Estinien’s face as he glances at the desk behind her. He indicates it with a jerk of his chin. “Turned around and bent over.”

Pari makes a little show of it as she obeys, playfully wiggles her hips to tease him as she lowers herself over the desk. It’s enough to earn her a firm, impatient smack on the ass.

Estinien can’t stand it any longer. He presses her down into the desk with more force than he’d intended, but she seems to like it from the way she rocks her hips back against him in an attempt to find more friction, more contact, or simply just… more.

As much as he wants to drag this out, he’s inclined to agree. He’s done his share of waiting, too.

The slide is easy – she’s pliant, slick, and the broken way she moans his name into the wood – _Estinien_ – draws him deeper. He leans over her as he bottoms out and allows himself to be overwhelmed by her.

How many times has he imagined her, taken himself in hand and tried to recreate this exact moment? He’d known already that his own flawed memory could never do it justice – the softness of her skin, the vice of that initial breach, the way she almost sobs his name again – _ESTINIEN_ – when he pulls out and pounds back into her, hard enough that the inkwell on her desk rattles.

That’s the pace he sets, a mindless chase of his hips while his hands roam over her body, over her thighs and her ass and her breasts and her lips, trying to memorize every inch of her. Trying to remember her well enough to fuel his imagination for the next year, decade, however long until they can meet again like this.

Without even thinking he slips his finger between her soft lips, and she rolls her tongue over it, closes her lips and sucks.

_Good girl._

He’s close to the end. Too close, too fast, but he can’t stop. His hips chase release before his mind can stop them, each thrust crushing Pari into the desk as she knocks a tome onto the floor in her frantic search for any kind of purchase on the wood.

He can’t stop, not even when the wave of release crashes over him and every drag feels like fire. He can’t stop, even as he spills himself inside of her and her distant cry of “Estinien, _please,_ ” reaches his ears.

The pleasure subsides and he still can’t stop, even when it’s enough to hurt, because she’s close and he’ll give her one more if it’s the death of him.

Pari sneaks a hand between her legs to rub at her clit, and Estinien pulls her upright, flush against him so her fingers don’t get crushed against the desk. He grits his teeth against the pain of overstimulation. He can’t keep this up much longer.

He drives faster, deeper, and Pari’s moans melt into a high whine as she finally, finally, comes undone. He lets her ride it out, holds her through the high and supports her as she comes down from it.

They catch their breath for a few moments before the glow fades and the cooling sweat gets stuck in all the places that they’re touching.

Estinien peels himself away and bends down to gather up his clothes. Pari tries to find the words to stop him, because this can’t end the same way it did last time.

“Please stay,” Pari says. She doesn’t want to beg, but for this, for _this,_ she just might.

Estinien sighs, his eyes downturned, and she already knows that the answer is “no.” He glances out the window at the falling night.

“It would be unwise,” he says. “It would make it that much harder to part, come the morning.”

She takes his face in her hands, tilts it to look at her. He wears his mask of indifference once more, but his eyes betray his sorrow. She smooths her thumb over his brow, brushes a sweaty lock of alabaster hair from his forehead.

“Let that be a problem for the morning,” Pari says. “Let us have this now. Stay.”

The conflict isn’t plain on his face, but she knows him well enough to see the gears turning in his head.

_Don’t keep it all in,_ she wants to tell him. _Don’t shut me out._

Estinien’s heart grows heavy as he looks at her. Her body, marked red from where he’d touched her. Her lips, swollen from their frantic kisses. Her eyes, pleading. How he hated to see her plead.

_I could never forget you, Estinien,_ she’d said. He sighs and smooths his hand over her hair, rests his chin on the top of her head.

He’d already come this far, might as well indulge all the way.

“All right,” he says. “Let it be tomorrow’s problem.”


End file.
